


the girl in the window

by TheEndlessMajestic



Category: Booksmart (2019)
Genre: Agoraphobia, Alternate Universe, Angst, Drama, Enemies to Lovers, F/F
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-06-15
Updated: 2019-07-23
Packaged: 2020-05-12 04:13:43
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 5,384
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19221370
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheEndlessMajestic/pseuds/TheEndlessMajestic
Summary: Everyday, Amy sees Hope sitting in the same spot. The front window with a book in her hands. And after six months of trying to push the thought from her mind, she finally decides to try and get the girl's attention. Easier said than done.





	1. i see you

For the past six months, the routine had been the same for Amy.

When she would drive home, whether it was from school or from Molly’s home, she would pass by a certain house. And in that certain house was a certain girl.

Hope.

Poor, poor Hope.

Amy would see her in the same position every day. Hope would sit curled up on a ledge near the front window. Book in her hands, and her mind lost in the fantasy it would provide. She had her reasons, of course. And it didn’t take a genius like Amy to know why.

A few months ago, near the end of junior year, Hope lost her father. Another victim of senseless gun violence in a country that hardly seems to care. The brunette had always been something of a daddy's girl. The two had bonded over music and style, and losing him was like losing a part of herself. 

For Hope, though, it wasn’t just enough to lose the most important figure in her life. It was the fact that such a horrific crime could happen right outside her home. The mere idea that that situation could easily repeat itself made the thought of going outside difficult. So, she just didn’t.

Considering the loner rep Hope had, it was hard for her classmates to get details on what exactly the girl was going through. Especially for Amy, who often felt the brunt of Hope’s prickly remarks when she was still in school. And considering the shorter girl's minor crush on the loner, the cutting words weren't always easy to take.

Eventually word trickled down that Hope had been diagnosed with agoraphobia. Triple A was finally able to get her on the phone in order to hear it for herself. Hope still refused to let her classmates visit, though. The only one’s that went in and out of the house were her mother and her therapist. It was just easier for her to shut the world out while she attempted to rebuild herself. 

Even considering her crush, though, it didn’t make sense for Amy to feel so intrigued by the other girl. They weren’t friends, and what was ailing Hope was far beyond what Amy knew how to deal with. But she felt the need to do something, anything, though. That was just who she was. A girl who always wanted to help others, even when she was struggling to get by herself.

And after sitting on it for the last six months. After getting a glimpse of Hope every day in the same position. After trying to drive the thought from her head. Amy finally decided she needed to find someway to help.

Even if Hope was probably going to be less than pleased to see her.

This was going to be a disaster.


	2. but if we just spoke

“You can’t be serious. I don’t believe you.”

For what felt like the tenth time this afternoon, Amy once again rolled her eyes at her best friend, Molly. The duo had been friends for pretty much their entire lives, and they always supported each other. It was Molly’s acceptance and love that made Amy finally comfortable enough to go public with her sexual orientation. The rest of her grade may not have really cared, but it still felt great to get off her chest.

For as great as she was, though, Molly could also be frustratingly stubborn. She had a set path that the two of them were on, and nothing was going to change that. Especially not a former mean girl turned social recluse.

“I don’t see what the big deal is Molly. I’m just going to text her and see how she’s feeling.”

“Do you not remember who Hope was?” Molly asked incredulously. Pacing around Amy’s room, the debate champ was aghast at what her friend was planning to do. “I don’t want to tear down another woman, but she was an absolute bitch to you. To everyone!”

Amy knew her best friend had a point. However, her kind-hearted nature pulled at her to reach out to the troubled girl.

“Yes, Mols, I remember what Hope is like” Amy said with a sigh. Placing her hand on her friend’s shoulder, the girl tried her best to put her mind at ease. “If she doesn’t want to talk to me, I’m not going to be offended. I just feel like I have to say something.”

Although still not convinced this was a good idea, Molly knew she wouldn’t be able to change her friend’s mind that easily. “I know I could eventually get you to change your mind. But I won't. So go ahead, text that rude person.”

It was far from 100% supportive, but it was probably the best Amy was gonna get from Molly for now.

Next came the hard part of actually getting the number.

* * *

 

The following day at school, Amy sought out the one person she knew who definitely had access to Hope: Annabelle.

While neither would consider the other to be a friend, they were pretty cool with one another. Amy was one of the few who didn’t refer to her classmate as Triple A, a nasty nickname given to her. And Annabelle may not really care for Amy, but she does respect her for sticking up for what’s right, no matter what others say.

It was still going to be awkward to ask for the number, however. Annabelle of course had to have heard the comments Hope frequently shot at her smaller classmate. They were the most consistent of the barbs fired out from the lanky brunette.

However, Amy still had to try, and she just hoped the other girl would be able to tell she had good intentions.

In order to do so, Amy decided it was best to try during her lunch period. It would be too hard for her to not focus on the lesson if she tried during class.

Spotting her target, she decided to bite the bullet and ask for it as straight forward as possible.

“Hi Annabelle” Amy started with, “Can I possibly ask you for a favor?”

The more popular girl eyed her classmate curiously. “Uh, sure Amy. What’s up?”

“I was, uh, wondering if I could possibly talk to Hope? Like, if I could get her number? To speak to her?”

That rambling question only served to confuse Annabelle even more. What possible reason would Amy have to talk to Hope? Yes, everyone knew that she was into the fairer sex. And yes, Hope was seriously attractive. Even Triple A had to admit that. But they rarely talked, and when they did, it wasn’t nice.

“Ummmm, I’m not sure I can do that Amy. You know Hope is going through some stuff right now, and I’m not sure she really wants to extra attention.”

“I get that, I do. And I know it’s strange for me to even be asking in the first place.”

Amy took a moment to collect her thoughts before continuing. “But. But I think it would just be good for her to have someone else to talk to.”

“I’m not enough for her or something? And why would she even want to talk to you?”

This was not exactly going to plan, and Amy found herself quickly getting flustered.

“I didn’t say that. And, you know, I would never insult you like that. You’re totally good company, even though we don’t talk ev-“

The sound of Annabelle laughing cut off the other girl mid-sentence, however.

“Dude, I’m just fucking with you” she said before taking out her phone. “If it was any other person, I would assume you were doing this only to fuck with Hope. But I know you’re not like that.”

Not totally registering what had happened, Amy stood awkwardly as Triple A held out her phone. “Amy? You have an aneurysm or something?”

Shaking her head to clear out the cobwebs, Amy tried to gracefully recover. “Uh, of course! I was just thinking.” She did not pull it off successfully.

“Right” Annabelle said with a smirk. “Take my phone and get her number. And take my number down just in case as well.”

Grabbing the device out of her classmates hand, the nerd was kind of shocked at this turn of events. Getting Hope’s number was one thing, but Annabelle’s too? Being relentlessly nice had finally paid off!

Before she could copy the numbers into her own phone, the other girl reached out and grabbed Amy’s arm. “Two things, though. First of all, don’t tell Hope I gave you her number. I don’t want to deal with that. And secondly, I can’t promise she’ll even answer you. You know how she is.”

“I-I won’t tell her a thing” Amy said in response. “And I understand that she may not want to talk, but that won’t stop me from trying. It just feels like the right thing to do.”

“I hope she does, though” Annabelle said as she walked off. “I think you might actually be good for her.”

* * *

 

With Hope’s number in hand, Amy was ready to put her plan into action. It was simple, really. She was going to text Hope every morning with a simple good morning and, perhaps, a run-down of what was going on at school. It was a way for her to know that she wasn’t forgotten, and to keep her updated on what her classmates were doing. The taller girl probably didn’t care about the second part, but she felt like she had to include something else in her messages.

Pulling out her phone the next morning, she fired off her first text. Or texts in this instance.

**Amy:** _Hi Hope, hope you have a good day!_

**Amy:** _Oh, right, this is Amy._

**Amy:** _From school, in case you forgot._

**Amy:** _Classes are kind of slow right now. Gigi commandeered the school’s loudspeaker the other morning. Which was as absurd as it sounds._

Putting her phone down, Amy went about getting ready for the rest of the day. After getting dressed and fixing her hair, she grabbed her phone and saw that Hope had yet to respond. Not that she was necessarily expecting a fast response. But getting something back, even an insult, would be nice.

She couldn’t rush Hope along, though. With her fragile state of mind, that just wouldn’t be nice.

Ultimately, she pocketed her phone, and went to pick-up Molly for school.

Hope never texted her back.

* * *

 

The same story repeated itself for the next week. Amy would fire off her standard greeting and news update. Hope would never respond in turn. It was a frustrating scenario, but a little adversity wasn’t going to stop her.

As the lack of response from Hope dragged into the following week, though, Amy found herself getting discouraged. Even if her intentions were in the right place, maybe now wasn’t the time? She’s never really had to deal with someone who dealt with such trauma before, and maybe this wasn’t the right way.

Sitting at her lunch table alone (Molly had class president business to attend to), Amy frowned as she stared at the wall of text messages she had sent. Before she could get too depressed over it, though, she was interrupted by a friendly voice.

“Amy! Why the long face?” Ryan said as she sat down from across the other girl.

The subject of Ryan was still a little sore for Amy. For the longest time, the skater was the only girl she had eyes for. Of course, it was ultimately for nothing, as not only was Ryan straight, but she also was secretly seeing class vice president Nick. It hurt, but she couldn’t force anyone to be into her.

“Hey Ryan. It’s nothing, just waiting to hear back from someone.”

“Molly? Her and Nick are meeting with Principal Brown, I think."

Of course she assumed it was Molly. Who wouldn’t? Before she could stop herself, Amy decided to correct the other girl.

“No, not Molly. I’m actually trying to get in touch with Hope.”

Ryan’s reaction to that statement was very similar to how Annabelle looked when Amy first asked for the number. Confusion. Bafflement. Any other synonym you could think of.

“Hope? As in tall, sarcastic and fringe-jacket wearing Hope?”

“Uh, yeah, that one. I’m just trying to let her know she hasn’t been forgotten and that I’m thinking of her.”

“That’s really sweet of you to do, actually. How long have you been doing this?”

Rubbing the back of her head, Amy sheepishly let her classmate know it had been going on for about two weeks now.

“And she still hasn’t said anything back? You'd think she would at least tell you to stop or something.”

“Right? I don’t want to force her to do anything but getting anything back at this point would be nice at least.”

Ryan grabbed Amy’s shoulder in a show of support. “Well, I hope Hope has the decency to at least let you know how she’s doing. If nothing else, it’s a bummer seeing you look so down.”

A couple of months ago, even this little interaction would have sent Amy into a tailspin. Now? Her mind was on someone else.

* * *

 

The next morning when Amy woke up, she did what she always did in the morning: reached for her phone. She wasn’t expecting much of anything. Maybe a text from Molly. But today was apparently not going to be just any regular day.

**Hope:** _why the fuck are you doing this_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oh, Amy. You're too kind for this world.
> 
> Next chapter follows Hope.


	3. watch me dissolve, slowly

For Hope, the day begins almost the same as it had for the last few months. Waking up way too early, and knowing what she’d see in her sleep would prevent her from falling back asleep.

It’s too early to read, though. So, after making her morning coffee (Light roast, black), she picks up her guitar and begins strumming away. It still hurt to do so, but it helped to play through the pain.

Growing up, Hope was never interested in what was considered popular at the time. Fame flashing rap and trashy pop just weren't on her radar. Instead, she was fed a steady diet of classic rock staples. From The Beatles to Nirvana, and just about everything in between. It was just one of the many gifts she received from her father.

As someone who was more less self-taught, Hope wasn’t exactly great at guitar. She could carry a tune, though, and could mostly fumble her fingers through a song. Today’s choice came courtesy of The Zombies. Maybe a little morbid, but damn could they write a catchy melody.

After getting warmed up, she began to strum a simple rhythm. Voice soft and low, she started to sing aloud:

_The warmth of your love's_

_Like the warmth from the sun_

_And this will be our year_

_Took a long time to come_

_Don't let go of my hand_

_Now darkness has gone_

_This will be our year_

_Took a long time to come_

It took a bit, but eventually she let the song overtake her. That’s the beauty of music in a way. You can just get lost in it.

_And I won't forget_

_The way you helped me_

_Up when I was down_

_And I won't forget_

_The way you said_

_Darling I love you_

_You gave me faith to go on_

_Now we're there_

_And we've only just begun_

_This will be our year_

_Took a long time to come_

Before Hope could get to the next verse, though, her phone buzzed on her counter. “That’s odd,” Hope thought to herself, “Who would possibly text me this early?”

Picking up her phone, she notices that it’s from an unknown number. Curiosity peaked, she opens the message.

 **Unknown:** Hi Hope, hope you have a good day!

“What the fuck” she muttered to herself. A second text provided some much need clarification.

 **Unknown:** Oh, right, this is Amy

Hope could barely register the other two texts that came in. Of all people to not only get her number, but text her.

Meek, nerdy, Molly’s Bitch Amy. The girl Hope had poked and prodded at for God knows how long. This has to be some kind of karmic payback. But she’s not going to give her the satisfaction of a reply.

But how did she even get the number in the first place? She hadn’t exactly been giving with her new number, specifically for situations such as this. Then it clicked.

“Triple A you bitch” Hope said aloud to herself.

 **Hope:** why the fuck is amy anstler texting me

 **Annabelle:** how should I know that

 **Hope:** because you’re the only person she could have gotten my number from, you bitch

 **Annabelle:** yeah, fine. i gave it to her. shouldn’t you be happy about this?

“What’s she talking about?” Hope thought to herself as she prepared to answer back.

 **Hope:** why would I be happy about this? you know how I feel about her.

 **Annabelle:**  i know how act in front of everyone towards her. that’s not the same as how you actually feel. i think you picked on her because you had a big gay crush on her.

 **Hope:** man, fuck you.

Throwing her phone onto her bed, Hope began to pace around the room. Of course she didn’t like Amy. Why would she? Amy was obnoxiously opinionated, yet somehow too modest. Watching her get tugged around by Molly was maddening.

Not like Hope always paid attention to Amy. Definitely not the case. And she definitely did not have a crush on her.

* * *

 

To say that the last few months had been terrible would be an understatement.

Losing her father was tough. Tough enough to drive Hope to the edge. Tough enough to fuck up her own mind. She loved her mother, she really did. But that doesn’t fix her broken brain.

Her struggle to leave the house didn’t even begin immediately. After the funeral, Hope had somehow managed to finish up the rest of the school year. She was mentally checked out, sure. But her grades were good enough, so that was hardly a concern.

It was during the summer where her agoraphobia began to take hold. It started with Hope going home earlier and earlier each day. She used to be a night owl, but now she was getting in before the sun went down. That would mutate into only making small trips out. To the store or deli to grab food. Then it was right back home and into her room.

Eventually it further transformed into Hope struggling to grab the mail. Stepping outside would produce a cacophony of problems for her. It starts with dizziness and tremors. Then it begins to feel like someone is squeezing her throat. Breathing becomes fast, and when combined with rampant nausea, it was unbearable. And she can’t figure out how to stop it.

For now, she’s stuck in her house. Where she’s reminded of everything she lost wherever she looks.

It’s a living nightmare, and Hope isn’t sure how much longer she can take it.

* * *

 

Despite Hope not giving her the time of the day, Amy hadn’t given up on our quest to text every morning. You can set your watch to the same kind of text rolling in every morning before school. Hope was taking online classes these days, but she still remembered what time she had to be in previously.

There was nothing outlandish about Amy’s texts. They were nice, but kind of superfluous.

And maybe that’s why they bothered Hope so much. They didn’t feel personal. It was like getting automated good vibe texts every day. Well-meaning, but ultimately meaningless.

For two weeks, Hope just tried to ignore it. The texts hardly got in the way of her day, so it should have been easy. But the question of why they were happening continued to bug her. It can’t be as simple as Amy being a good person, could it?

The only way to find out was to confront the question head on.

 **Hope:** why the fuck are you doing this

 **Amy:** I just wanted you to know that I’m thinking of you. And that you haven’t been forgotten, and I’m always here to talk if you want.

 **Hope:** but why. we aren’t friends.

 **Hope:** and you can’t help me. unless you’re better than my actual therapist.

 **Amy:** I’m not saying that. I would never try to tell you what to do. I’m just here to listen.

 **Hope:** well i don’t need anyone else to talk to.

 **Hope:** so please stop texting me.

 **Amy:** If that’s what you want, then fine. I’ll stop.

 **Hope:** good.

* * *

 

True to her word, Amy did stop texting. Which was frankly confusing for Hope.

This was Amy Antsler. The girl who fought for gender-neutral bathrooms despite the wave of disinterest from pretty much any other student. The girl who bravely came out in 10th grade. The girl who didn’t meet a protest she wasn’t interested in attending.

And Hope had gotten her to stop with just a few texts.

It had been awhile since she felt in control like that. Like most happiness, though, it proved fleeting. How could she capture that feeling once more, though?

Before she could stop herself, she was picking up her phone to once again prod at her former classmate.

 **Hope:** didn’t expect you to give up so quickly.

 **Hope:** kind of disappointed. honest.

Unfortunately, since it was still early in the morning, Amy probably wouldn’t respond for a few hours.

With plenty of work to catch up on, Hope could at least keep her self occupied. Online classes were somehow more of a drag than actual classes, but considering she couldn’t leave the house in her current state, it was all she could do.

Before she could get properly into her work, though, Hope’s phone surprisingly vibrated next to her.

 **Amy:** Well you requested that I didn’t text you anymore. So. I didn’t.

 **Amy:** If you’re just doing this to make fun of me, though, I’d prefer it if you didn’t.

It would be easy to tell her off again. Hope had gotten quite good at it over the years.

And yet.

Something inside her was telling her that maybe she shouldn’t be so quick to agitate. Amy was nice enough to respect her wishes when asked. This clearly wasn’t some kind of sick retribution on her part. Maybe she really did want to talk to Hope. Broken, miserable Hope.

 **Hope:** no, I promise it’s not that. i’m sorry for snapping at you, nerd.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hope being a mature-ish adult. She's still got plenty on her plate, though.
> 
> Chapters from here on out will be split between both Amy and Hope.


	4. now i'm longing for the way i was

After Hope finally expressed some interest in talking with her, Amy was feeling a lot more optimistic. The taller girl still refused to really open up, but at least she just wasn’t straight up ignoring her anymore. It didn’t even matter that they still didn’t talk every day.

Amy had already achieved her goal of letting Hope know that she hasn’t been forgotten. Anything afterwards was just gravy.

As for when they did talk, it was mostly Amy driving the conversation. She would talk with Hope about what’s been going on at school. The one good thing about being mostly ignored by her peers was that she was able to listen in on others without being noticed. She could listen to Theo’s absurd plan to party with Ms. Fine or the latest on the still frankly hard to believe relationship between Ryan and Nick with little trouble.

No trouble except for the prying eyes of Molly, however.

“Amy,” Molly said, “I’ve noticed you’ve been a little distracted recently. You barely paid attention when I told you about the short-form documentary festival this weekend.”

“What are you talking about, Mols?” Amy asked as she put down her sandwich. “I’m totally interested in that festival you mentioned.”

“Oh yeah? What’s the official name for it then?”

“Ummm-ahhh,” the shorter girl stammered out, “the short…film….festival?”

“That’s what I thought,” Molly said smugly in return. “You need to focus up Amy. Stop daydreaming about Ryan or whatever you’ve been doing.”

“Sorry Molly. I promise to pay more attention. And I haven’t been daydreaming about Ryan, thank you very much. You know that’s not going to happen.”

“Believe me, I’m just as crushed about the Ryan/Nick relationship as you are. But you really do need to focus up. Senior year is going by in a flash, and we still have a lot to do.”

“Right. Right. I know, but I’ve been talking to Hope more-“

“I _knew_ it had to be a girl! I just didn’t think it was _that_ girl.”

 Amy sighed at her best friend’s statement.

“Oh, don’t give me that attitude Amy,” Molly interrupted with, “I’m just looking out for what’s best for you. Which I don’t think is Hope.”

Biting back her first thought, Amy tried to be as diplomatic as possible. “I know you are Molly, and I love you for that. But I’m starting to scratch the surface with Hope. She’s not as bad as you think she is.”

“I know she has been through a lot, and I feel for her. But we practically grew up with her, and we know how she is. Rude, nasty and pretty much a bitch.”

“You just need to trust me on this, Molly. I can handle myself. And she’s changed too. So, yeah.”

As much as it continued to bother Molly, she knew, again, that this was not the time to change Amy’s mind. If anyone knew how much force Amy could push back with, it was definitely her best friend.

“Fine. But don’t say I didn’t warn you. And I would say that I won’t be there for you when this blows up in your face, but we both know that’s not true.”

“I love and appreciate the support, I really do, but I just feel like I have to do this. I still can’t really explain why, but it just feels like the right thing to do.”

With that bit of drama temporarily set aside, the two friends quickly moved onto another subject. Specifically, Amy’s trip to Botswana in the summer, and how they would spend their days at college next fall. Of course, Amy had failed to disclose that she would be delaying her college career, but that was an argument for another day.

* * *

 

“How have you been feeling Hope?”

Hope’s sessions with Miss Reynolds always started with this straightforward question. After her agoraphobia began to become too much to handle, her mother had reached out to the best therapist she could find. They had been meeting once a week for about two months now, and Hope wasn’t exactly seeing any positive progress. It felt kind of pointless, but if it made her mom happy, it’s the least she could do.

“Same as always. Exhausted. Sick. The common moods of the surly teenager.”

“Well, at least you haven’t lost your sense of humor yet,” the therapist said with an unamused tone, “and how are classes going?”

“Fine. Still kind of weird doing the whole online class thing, but it’s working. I’ve actually been missing going to school in-person, though.”

Miss Reynolds raised her eyebrows at the statement. “Have you now? Last time we discussed this, you didn’t seem to really miss any of your classmates.”

“I know,” Hope responded with, “And I still don’t miss most of them. They’re all fake, and complain about the dumbest things. They have no idea what actual depression feels like.”

“Hope,” the therapist cut in with, “You’re going off track. But that’s worth going back to later.”

The brunette was a little embarrassed by that outburst. “Sorry, it’s just easy to go off like that. Anyway, I’ve been talking to a girl from my class, and it’s been nice.”

“This is someone different from Annabelle, correct?”

“Oh, right, kind of forgot about Triple A for a second,” Hope answered with, “but yes, this is a different girl. Her name’s Amy.”

“And were you two friends before you left school?” Miss Reynolds said as she scribbled some notes down on her pad.

“Um, not exactly,” she said with a wince, “I was kind of a jerk to her. Pretty much anytime I saw her. I don’t really know why.”

“Interesting. And why are you two talking now?”

“She actually reached out to me first. Kind of just to let me know that people were still thinking of me, and rooting for me. Which was nice, but I didn’t really believe her at first. Then I realized that Amy wasn’t the type of person to pull a trick like that.”

Miss Reynolds continued to jot down notes as Hope explained her situation. It was the first time she had really opened up about a specific person in her life during a session. It felt……nice?

“I’m still kind of keeping her at arm’s length, for now,” Hope continued, “but who knows? You know? At the very least, it’s nice to have someone to talk to.”

“I agree. It’s important for you to have an additional outlet that isn’t just me or your mother. I’m not saying that talking to Amy will make you feel 100% better, that would be ridiculous. But having a friend to chat with could help you get readjusted.”

Hope shook her head in agreement. She may not be fully on board with letting someone else in yet, but she’s willing to try with Amy.

* * *

 

**Hope:** hey nerd, dare to text me during school hours?

A fairly innocuous text, but one that had set Amy’s stomach a flutter when she received it. This was one of the few times since they started messaging either that the taller girl shot first. It was…….an exciting development.

However, it did come in the middle of chemistry, and considering Professor Stevens was one of the strictest teachers around, she would have to wait to answer back. The subject was already one Amy’s least favorites, and the fact that she had a text waiting only made the period go slower.

By the time class was dismissed, Amy practically sprinted out of her seat and into the hallway. Digging out her phone, she began to think of a good message to respond with. Before she could properly respond, though, she felt a face glide into the back of her head.

“Oh, Amy, I missed your wonderful hair.”

Gigi. Rich eccentric who has the attributes of a witch and the personality of an alien. This wasn't an insult. It was just the most accurate description.

“Hey Gigi,” Amy said as she soaked in the attention, “Glad you’re still loving the shampoo.”

“It’s not the shampoo. It’s your aura. As your best friend, I need its good vibes.”

Amy was used to this song and dance by now. At the start of freshman year of high school, Gigi specifically sought out the shy nerd. She claimed it was destiny, and really, Amy had no other explanation that made sense.

“I like you Gigi, but Molly is my best friend. You know that.”

“Oh, right, right. I’m thinking of one of our past lives.”

“Rightttt,” Amy said as she turned back to her phone, and resumed dreaming up the right text.

“She’s good for you, you know? And you’ll be good for her.”

Turns out, every once in a while, Gigi could still surprise her.

“Wha-what are you talking about? Who is good for who?”

“Hope, duh. You two are good for each other.”

“How would you even know about that?”

“I said we’re best friends,” Gigi said as she took one last sniff of Amy’s hair before strutting off, “And I believe in destiny.”

“Destiny?” Amy thought to herself. “I’m not sure about that, but you never know.”

Once again picking up her phone, she finally sent out a response.

**Amy:** I’ve been called a risk taker once or twice before.

**Hope:** never heard anyone refer to you as that, but you did text me, so I’ll have to take your word for it.

**Amy:** What’s up? You never text during school hours.

**Hope:** you’re right. because I didn’t think you’d actually respond. But now I know that you will.

**Hope:** you still planning on going to Botswana?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> blessings to the queen Gigi.
> 
> More interaction between Hope and Amy to come in the next chapter.

**Author's Note:**

> Hey! Thanks for reading this brief opening.
> 
> Getting this out there now because I was feeling a strike of inspiration. It will be a few days before I get another update out, though, so please hold on.
> 
> Anyway, this is an AU where the icy relationship between Amy and Hope remains, as well as their eventual hook-up. The agoraphobia part comes from another Diana Silvers film, Flesh & Blood. A nifty little horror movie. Of course, this story does not feature that film's twist, so no need to worry about that.


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